


Slaves... Revisited

by LenoraLana



Category: The Incredible Hulk (TV)
Genre: episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenoraLana/pseuds/LenoraLana
Summary: A young woman goes to Vegas to get married, only to end up on a completely different adventure after she encounters David Banner on the road. Based heavily on the episode "Slaves", where it may take different twists and turns or it may not. Read on to find out what happens!
Relationships: Christy/OC
Comments: 10
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

_A/N: This is the next segment in my ongoing writing practice, where I am doing a fanfic based on an actual episode. This is the second fic I am attempting to do, based on the episode “Slaves” and it may end up being different from the original, we’ll see. Anyway, please let me know what you think!_

**Prologue**

Christy beamed as she twisted and turned in front of the full-length mirror in her motel room, her smile widening into a grin as she took in the sight of herself. 

She vaguely resembled a girl she remembered seeing in the framed photographs above the fireplace back in her parents’ home in Texas. The dancing little girl who tittered about in fancy little dresses and pretty hair bows, at least as fancy as her family could get from a local thrift store.

Most of the time she wore clothing that was far more practical, such as jeans and long-sleeved cotton shirts, due to life on the farm where she’d been raised. She had no intention of spending her life there, though, particularly since she had four brothers who could more than handle things. 

Then there was her baby sister, Marietta, who had already gotten married to the first guy she could wrap around her pretty little finger. Although Christy would never have said this around anyone, especially her parents, she’d always hated Marietta. The bratty little princess had stolen not only the hearts of dear ol’ Mom and Dad, but pretty much every Aunt, Uncle and both sets of grandparents.

To make matters worse, the twerp could get away with murder, so it seemed. “Sweet Little Marietta” already had her husband bending over backwards trying to please her, to the point of bringing the newlywed couple to bankruptcy in time for their first anniversary. Nothing ever seemed to matter, though; Daddy was still there to whip out the credit card to help pay for a trip to California, LA.

The only good thing about it for Christy was that she had been permitted to tag along with the hippity-hoppity-happy-couple on their first-class plane trip. Enduring their plastic smiles and slobbering smooches was a bit much at times, but Christy kept reminding herself that she was only going along to get dropped off in a whole new state.

After all, California was supposed to be one of the greatest states in the country, wasn’t it? It nearly rivaled Texas in size, at least, even if it was said to be the near-opposite of the culture and lifestyle that was in her own birthstate.

She felt that maybe, just maybe, this would be her chance to get lucky and start out a new life. If she could just a land a job somewhere and start to build herself up, she would no longer need to deal with smelly animals and the hard work on a farm. She also wouldn’t have to constantly flip-flop between being a tomboy working with her brothers in the barn, to simply being Mama’s Marietta-replacement in her baby sister’s absence.

Christy’s mind returned to the present briefly, as she raised her arms and twirled around again in front of the mirror, the bottom of the dress swirling around her legs. Yes, in a way… she did mirror the pictures of the very young Christy that probably still graced the fireplace back home. She was just much, much taller now and much more shapely.

She had also gotten her wish. While she didn’t land a job as she had originally intended, she was engaged to be married. On a smug note, she couldn’t help but feel this would one-up her baby sister in some way. She had not only gotten engaged to a Big Shot Record Dealer named Steve, someone who was well-known throughout the state of California, but he had his own money for which he himself had worked hard to earn and save.

Marietta had married a Mama’s boy who had been lucky enough to inherit a family fortune after his own family perished. Christy was also half-convinced that Marietta had seduced the boy into sleeping with her just to prompt their father into giving the two of them a shotgun wedding for fear of pregnancy. Marietta had yet to show any signs of producing a much-anticipated grandbaby, and Christy’s spiteful side felt that it wouldn’t hurt her feelings any if the girl turned out to be barren.

Christy felt that she would definitely one-up Marietta in this case. She had not only chosen a respectable man with a business, she was saving her virginity for marriage. That meant she was doing everything that her precious, oh-so-perfect baby sister did not. Christy knew she would never receive a medal or any family praise for it, most likely, but it was the principal of it all. 

She could be proud of that at least.

“You look absolutely ravishing.”

Christy started a little when she heard the voice behind her, but she quickly smiled and turned to face him. “Aw, well, you shouldn’t sneak up on me like that. Don’t you realize it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

“I’m certain that applies only to public ceremonies.” Steve stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. He cupped her chin in his hand, looking straight into her eyes. “You look amazing and I love your perfume.”

“It’s the same one I was wearing when we first met,” Christy breathed, raising her own hand to touch his, caressing his skin. “I’m glad you noticed.”

“I did.” He leaned in and kissed her.

Within seconds, his arms were around her slender frame, pulling her close. Her frame melted against him as he placed a large, strong hand against her lower back. A rush of warmth seemed to flow from his palm and fingers, rushing up her body and heating up her cheeks.

“You taste as good as you look, my dear,” he crooned, “my dearest blushing bride….”

Christy’s face betrayed a flustered look mixed with a slightly deeper blush as she stiffened, reaching back to grab his wrists and free herself from his embrace. “Ah, ah,” she chided as she took a step back and held up one finger. “Remember, we agreed. No funny business until after we exchange our vows.”

“Yes,” Steve concurred with a reserved sigh. “I am counting the hours, Christy.” He stroked her chin.

She permitted the touch for a moment, then she flashed him a smile as she grabbed his fingers and lowered his hand delicately, as though handling a loaded weapon. “Down, boy.”

Steve took a step back and dramatically raised his hands. “No funny business until tomorrow night,” he promised with such a serious tone and stern expression that Christy couldn’t help but giggle.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to change and get ready for the flight to Las Vegas.” They’d already had their wedding and honeymoon planned in one swoop. They would elope, then they would spend a week enjoying a time of gambling and seeing the sights.

“I should get ready as well. I’ll meet you out in the car,” he winked, and then he was gone.

Christy took another long moment to look at herself in the mirror, her mind once again flashing back to that framed photo of her much-younger-self atop the mantel above the fireplace. The girl who wore a pretty dress much like this one, which her mother had dressed her up in shortly before Marietta had been born.

Stamping her foot once, Christy imagined her heel crushing that photo. That had been a little girl. Now she was a woman, and she would become a true woman with her own life wearing this dress now.

She stepped over the imagined spot on the floor and, with her head held high, she headed for the door.


	2. Chapter 1

A seemingly permanent scowl darkened Christy’s features as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. The last couple of hours had been an absolute blur, to the point where her mind was still reeling.

Was any of this really happening? Was it all just a dream? 

She could handle it if she could just wake up back in her bedroom, in her family’s enormous farmhouse, to find that she had never left and the entire thing had been a dream. She would never have met Steve and would never have had to go through any of this sham. 

The pretty dress that so resembled a larger version of the one that younger-Christy had once worn, the one she had planned to use as her wedding dress during elopement, had been forcefully wrapped and tied in a very tight knot around the telephone back in Vegas… the same telephone that she had picked up to receive the awful news.

Steve had stepped out to make sure everything was in order and said he would meet her at the Justice of the Peace… during which time the phone had rung, and she picked it up.

It had been his wife calling.

She had reacted by tying her dress around the phone in a manner that she wished she could have around his neck and head. An aggressive, angry, passionate gesture followed by throwing the phone across the room and storming out the door with only what she had on and her purse.

Christy did take one other thing, however; his car. His really, really nice car. She would get herself out of there, at least to somewhere or other, and she would leave him without wheels for a while. She doubted that would leave him stranded for long, but…

She was barely paying any attention to where she was going. A million thoughts were swimming around in her mind now. She had failed to one-up Marietta, but she had also chosen an absolute creep. Charming on the surface but, for all she knew, she could simply be the latest in a long line of swooning ladies.

“I can’t go home like this,” she muttered aloud to herself. She couldn’t face her family like this and she couldn’t just waltz back to that farm life with nothing to show for it. No, she did not have a plan of any sort, nor did she have any goal or direction in mind… except continue to put as much space as possible between herself and that two-time-jerk.

It was only when the sight of endless, barren terrain in all directions became more and more predominant in her vision that she began to realize she had taken a wrong turn somewhere. She did pull over briefly to check one of the many road maps that had been unceremoniously stuffed into the glove compartment. It was horribly wrinkled, having the look of an object that had been shoved in just to have it but never to use. 

Perhaps his wife had insisted he have one, and he was like so many men who were too proud to peer at a map or ask for directions…

She took a good, long look at it, just to feel her heart sink when she realized the nearest town wasn’t for another thirty miles or so. It also meant she had already crossed the point of no return and therefore, any direction she picked wouldn’t make much of a difference.

So there she was. Out in the middle of nowhere, in the desert, without any food or water… but at least she had wheels, even if they weren’t hers. But while she had that, she at least had relative freedom, right?

Therefore, she did the only thing she could do; rev the engine, pull back onto the ever-winding road, and continue onward until she reached one of the nearest towns. After that… she wasn’t sure and she didn’t really care. Maybe she would try to find a job, maybe she would actually land one this time.

She couldn’t do any worse than she’d already done, or at least nearly done, could she?

She also kept her eyes peeled for any sign of a pay phone, though there appeared to be none. Not that she would expect it all the way out here anyway… gosh, this place was worse than even some of the remote areas she’d wandered back in Texas. Then again, it was foolish to expect there to be pay phones in places where they couldn’t be maintained or regularly used. 

This area was so remote it even had an unnerving absence of landlines and telephone poles… or any signs of civilization whatsoever.

After having just been in a populated place like Vegas, it was difficult to believe there could still be places like this in the United States. Maybe that said something for how much territory still existed…

The only sight that momentarily broke up the monotony was a brown-haired man who appeared to be hitch-hiking on the side of the road. She barely spared him a glance as she drove right past him. 

She wasn’t in the habit of picking up random people off the side of the road. Besides… what fool would be out there alone in the middle of nowhere anyway? Either he had some kind of problem that might make him not-worth-the-risk of picking up, or maybe he had his own vehicle someplace that had broken down. 

The latter was unlikely, considering she hadn’t seen anything in passing, but you never knew…

Besides, she had already had her fill of dealing with men for the time-being. She was still sick of her brothers and their antics despite being away from home for a little while now, and she was still reeling from what happened with Steve. No, she did not need to have another guy to contend with right now.

She made a sharp turn around a bend, just to see something that brought further home just how remote this area was. A prairie dog was sitting in the middle of the road, almost as though it owned the spot or at least claimed it for a temporary rest.

Christy gritted her teeth as she gripped the steering wheel and forced the vehicle to swerve, watching the animal instead of the road. 

Next thing she knew, the front end of the car had impacted a nearby tree trunk… what appeared to be one of the few trees she had seen for a while. A great, big tree at that…

“Oh!” She groaned, shutting off the ignition with a snap of her wrist and slumping back in her seat momentarily. Not that the action mattered, considering the engine had already faltered and konked out on its own. 

She her hands through her hair, smoothing it out of her face, then gave her head an experimental shake. Nope, no whiplash, even if the mild crash had jolted her a little.

“Oh…” She groaned again as she made a face at the sight of the damage. She opened the door and stepped out, wincing sharply as she noted the dent in the front of the car, along with the tiny bit of smoke or steam emanating from the engine.

She was vaguely aware of the stranger she had passed moments before running up toward her, coming to a quick halt just behind her as she assessed the damage.

“You all right?” he asked as she turned to look at him.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” she answered. She noted him eyeing the damage as much as she was. “Can you fix it?” she asked hopefully. Please, God, let him be some guardian angel who could know how to repair it…

At the very least, he didn’t seem to be a creep or loon. He seemed more concerned about her health first and the damage to the car…

“I don’t know, I’ll try,” he answered reasonably, and walked over to the front of the car to pop the hood and look inside. “Well, you really did it, didn’t you?” he remarked while doing this.

“Well, that’s fine, that’s really great,” he stated emphatically on her behalf. “You lost all your water, and it looks like the fan cut right through your water hose.” He looked her in the eye and nodded, “You’re gonna have to get a new one.”

“Oh…” Christy sighed, slapping the side of the car with frustration. “Well, uh… you know of any part stores around here?” Please, God, let him be from around here. Let him know something locally that the map didn’t show.

Unfortunately, he proved to disappoint again. “Uh… no, not one.”

“Great…”

“How’d it happen?” the man asked.

“Well, it was a dumb prairie dog just sitting right there in the middle of the road,” she pointed to the spot where it had been just moments ago. There was no sign of it now, apparently it had had the brains to split. “I tried not to hit him and look where it gets me.” She sighed. “It’s not even my car!”

“Maybe you ought to sit down and rest for a minute,” the man suggested.

She shook her head and reached into the car, through the rolled down window on the driver’s side, and retrieved her purse. She wasn’t going to stay in one place for long, not while she still had some anger to burn off and she still needed to get at least someplace. “Map says there’s not a town within thirty miles of here,” she stated, unwilling to waste time she could be walking.

She walked back toward the front of the car, looking at the stranger with sort of a shrug. “Well, you coming?” she asked, before passing him and proceeding onward. There seemed to be no point in both of them standing there. 

Christy tried to ignore the heat as she began to walk. She could hear the man catching up behind her, though he didn’t try too hard to get too close. “Name’s David,” he called out to her. 

Her only response was to raise a hand briefly in acknowledgement and keep walking. She wasn’t out here to get friendly and she was in no mood to talk. A helpful Good Samitarian would be handy to have nearby in case a wild animal attacked or a questionable character showed up, maybe, but otherwise… she’d had her fill of being chummy with people she barely knew.

Besides… this was gonna be a long walk. Especially when the only thing she had to wear on her feet were high heels. Not the best thing for hiking…

She gritted her teeth and just tried to focus on the road. Just keep going, one foot in front of the other… 

This would definitely be a miserable ending to a miserable day. Gone was the woman in the pretty dress about to get married and start off a fresh new life. She would be lucky if she could get somewhere before nightfall, preferably without unwanted blisters or worse on her feet...


	3. Chapter 2

Put one foot in front of the other… just keep putting one foot in front of the other…

Christy began to value the life she’d had on the farm for at least one reason; it had allowed her to build up some endurance. She didn’t exactly  _ like _ doing this, but she could handle it. 

Outwardly, with her knee-length blue skirt, stylish white shirt and high heels, she had the look of a city girl who probably would have fainted dead away by now.

Inwardly, she still had some grit. Right now she was tapping into the inner reserves she had used when a prized bull had escaped, when she and one of her brothers had gone out and searched within a seven mile radius of their family farm to find it and bring it home. The only reason they had gone through so much trouble, in the middle of the night no-less, was because it had been their fault the beast had escaped in the first place… and it was supposed to be ready for some event at a local fair or something. 

It was so long ago now she barely even remembered; she didn’t even recall whether their precious specimen of livestock had won any prizes. All that mattered was that it had been one of many, many things that enabled her to do alright here, now… at least for the time-being.

The sun began to intensify as it beat down over their heads, making everything feel hotter and hotter. She tried everything to keep her mind off of the scorching heat, how much her feet were starting to hurt, and how ridiculous this entire situation was. She had learned a long time ago that complaining did no good when you had to just get through something like hard work or a long hike, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

She sucked on the inside of her cheek and lower lip, trying to keep her mouth moist. She also tried to run song after song in her head. The first one was an old army song that her Grandfather used to sing to her and her siblings at times when he visited, a very catchy tune that helped them get through marching… but for the life of her, she could never remember all of the lyrics. Hell, she could barely remember the tune.

Her mind then switched over to running a song she had loved from childhood. It was “Put One Foot in Front of the Other”, from the Rankin/Bass “Santa Clause is Coming to Town”. It was catchy, it was nostalgic, it managed to get her out of the “here and now” for at least a little bit…

And it got really, really annoying… really fast.

Christy was somewhat aware of the fact that she was slowing down after a while, her endurance starting to wane a tad. This allowed the stranger to come up beside her until they were walking side by side. 

She did her best to ignore him. If she hadn’t just been through so much crap, she might have been interested in helping the time pass by chatting. But she was reserving all of her breath and energy for maintaining her physical rhythm. She had nothing to say to him anyway, even if he had proven his presence was no threat. 

It… would take time for her to recover from the emotional sting of opening up to a guy, getting engaged, and getting hurt. Not to mention she hated, absolutely  _ hated, _ the notion that precious little Marietta had successfully one-upped  _ her. _ Baby Sister might be a spoiled brat, but she’d at least picked somebody who was… loyal and untaken. Even if it was a weird sort of loyalty.

Christy became aware that the stranger’s hand was inches from hers now as they continued to walk alongside each other. Sweat was making her skin very damp and she knew her clothes would be ruined well before the day was over. She almost got the sense that the man next to her was ready to offer support if she showed any signs of growing faint, but he also seemed to sense it was a good idea to keep his hands to himself. 

It wasn’t too much longer before one of her precious high heels had worn a minor abrasion into her heel. She continued limping along for as long as she could, but finally turned off of the road to walk over to a nearby fallen tree to sit down. God, what she wouldn’t give for a decent pair of hiking boots right now.

The stranger followed her suit and sat down next to her without hesitation, no doubt in need of a break himself at this point. While he zipped open his duffle bag and began to fish around inside for something, she took a deep breath and took a quick look at the dead tree. It was completely dried out and there were no signs of insects or other things crawling around or infesting it. Good, the last thing she wanted right now was to get covered in ants or something.

The man--David, was it?--took out a bandaid from a small medical kit he had in his bag and held it out to her, as if knowingly. He had the look of someone who’d been forced to hike around a lot himself. Perhaps he knew what it was like to have your shoes bite you after a while, especially if they weren’t the best shoes…

She accepted it without a word and peeled it open, dropping the garbage on the ground. While she applied it to her foot, she was vaguely aware of David picking up that which she had dropped and putting it in his duffle bag, no doubt for proper disposal later. 

While she didn’t dwell on it much, she didn’t see what the point was. They were out here in the middle of nowhere, what would a couple of wrappers matter? Then again, this was the probably the type of guy who had it instilled into him by his mother from youth not to be a litterbug. It would’ve been nice if her brothers had learned that lesson… maybe it would’ve been better if she herself had been “taught better” in that way. The only thing her brothers seemed to be good for at times was herding cattle, manning the fields, and seeing how far they could spit tobacco juice.

“My name’s Christy,” she finally offered, now that she had caught her second wind and wasn’t focused exclusively on hiking. He nodded and smiled a little in acknowledgement, knowing he had already given her his name.

Neither of them said anything for a moment as she released a short sigh full of exhaustion and weariness. His features mirrored hers as he let out a heavy sigh of his own. Both of them knew they still had a long way to go before they would actually get anywhere, a fact which neither of them liked.

Christy felt her sore muscles protesting at the mere thought of getting up and moving again anytime soon. For the moment she was content to rest for at least a couple more minutes, but she knew it wouldn’t last. 

She thought briefly of Steve, even though she had been trying very, very hard to keep that rat-scallion’s image out of her head. She knew he would probably want his car back, especially since it was a rather fancy and expensive car. Was there a chance he was already out looking for her? 

Steve was the last person on the planet she wanted to see, but if it meant getting out of here… Well, he would owe her that much at least, for trying to pull one over on her and breaking her heart. Maybe, if and when he showed up, she would also have a golden opportunity to chew him out…

No, she told herself, don’t focus on that right now. The sun was still beating down on her head and the silence that echoed from a lack of passing traffic grated on her nerves. God, this place was so much more remote than Texas…

“So uh… what were you doing walking out there in the middle of nowhere anyway?” Christy finally asked. 

“Well, my ride dropped me off at the crossroads,” David indicated a direction with his finger, “I just started walking. And evidently I uh… picked the wrong road.” He clicked his tongue as though chiding himself.

Christy gave a slight chuckle as she empathized, “You and me both.”

Just then, both of them heard a sound that could have been from Heaven itself. The low rumble of a vehicle engine, coming in their direction. Both of their heads immediately snapped in the direction of the vehicle, causing Christy’s face to break out into a grin.

“It’s about time!” she gushed as she got up and moved toward the edge of the road with her thumb already extended. She ignored the stinging in her feet, mentally assuring them that they would soon have the weight taken off of them again. David came up behind her and held out his own thumb too, for everybody knew that nothing gave more of an impact than two thumbs up.

A teal-colored pickup truck pulled up closed as they approached. A friendly, plump African American man greeted them warmly as he looked out at them. “Hi! You folks look like you could use a ride somewhere!” He seemed like a very bubbly sort.

He leaned over and popped open the door on the passenger’s side. “Climb on up here,” he welcomed.

Christy wasted no time getting up and in, closely followed by David who offered thanks on behalf of them both. 

Once everyone was settled, the driver began to proceed onward, taking them further toward… well, somewhere. And anywhere was certainly better than out here.

“I was out driving around and I happened to notice a car wrapped around a tree,” the man was saying. “I didn’t see anyone, so I figured y’all needed to be somewhere around here and would like a ride.”

“We certainly do appreciate it,” David replied with feeling. “According to Christy’s map, the nearest town isn’t for thirty miles.”

“You got that right,” the driver nodded. “So how did it happen, anyway?”

“Oh, it was my fault,” Christy said. “I crashed trying to avoid hitting a dumb prairie dog.” Maybe part of her was starting to wish she had hit the stupid animal now. Then again, it would have been better if that animal had been Steve and she had hit it…

“Yeah, the car needs a new water hose,” David supplied. “When she hit the tree, the fan cut right through it.”

“Oh well, I have a lot of spare parts back in my workshop in town,” the man said. “I could probably get you that hose you need. Yeah, ol’ Issac has all kinds of stuff, he’ll get you what you need!”

“Good, then I can be on my way soon,” Christy enthused quietly.

“That was an awfully nice car you had there, Missy,” Issac went on cheerfully. “Too bad you had to go and bust it up.”

Christy was focused on her reflection in the rearview mirror, noting that her hair was an absolute mess. No doubt the sweat and the dusty breeze had ruined it somewhat. It wouldn’t have seemed so bad if only she hadn’t spent a lot of time and money getting it made up for what was supposed to have been her wedding, which was then supposed to be followed by a fun time out in Vegas.

Now she looked like something the cat dragged in, her hair all messed up and tangled… not to mention her makeup was ruined. If she could just have a little space sometime soon to freshen up and comb her hair, she would at least be presentable again.

“But never you mind about that, cuz ol’ Issac is gonna get you a new hose and y’all gonna be back on the road again in no time!” Issac enthused. 

“So just how far is this town of yours?” Christy wanted to know. She was already making tentative plans to book the nearest, cheapest motel room she could get.

“Well, Missy,” Issac grinned, “if ya keep your eyes peeled, I think you’re gonna see it just around this next bend here.”

Sure enough, they did see it once they rounded the next bend.

Any hopes that Christy had of finding a motel or even being welcomed into a nice house for a bit with a bathroom and possibly a nice, warm meal quickly shattered. What she saw was indeed a town, but not like any town she had ever seen except in old Westerns or maybe one or two very, very run-down parts of Texas she and her brothers had visited once or twice.

This place was dead. There were no vehicles, no signs of activity… no signs of life, apart from themselves. Some of the buildings were collapsed or on the verge of falling down. Even the ones that appeared to be in fair shape had obviously not been used for a long time, having worn paint and filthy windows. Such a lack of upkeep made it clear that this place wasn’t occupied, as there were no people there to impress.

“There isn’t anybody here,” Christy remarked aloud as they pulled to a halt. 

“Yeah, that’s right Missy,” Issac said as he stepped out of the truck. “Nobody here except ol’ Issac.”

“You mean you live out here all alone?” Christy asked as she and David walked around from their side of the truck to join Issac in front of it. 

Issac laughed. “Yeah, folks say ol’ Issac is crazier than a loon for staying here. But this here is home to me. It was my Grandpa’s land.”

David stood with his arms folded, surveying the area in silence and making his own observations. He appeared to be someone who had, perhaps, been to places just as bad as this or been in worse situations; he seemed unperturbed by his surroundings or the fact that there would be no hotel with room service anytime soon.

“I couldn’t stand it,” Christy said with a shake of her head. “I grew up in a farm in Texas so I know what remote is like, but this place takes the cake.”

“Well, it’s not for everybody,” Issac concurred. “But I likes it like that.”

“So what about the hose?” Christy prompted.

Issac jolted, as though snapping out of a private reverie. “Oh, yessum! I got it. Now you wait here by the truck and me and your boyfriend will go and get it, okay?”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” Christy stated firmly. 

“Well, whatever, Missy,” Issac shrugged in a kind of a okay-its-not-my-business-anyway manner. “I got all the stuff you need somewhere around here. Come on,” he motioned David to come with him, giving off a strong vibe that he could use some help looking around anyway. David quickly joined him, and the two wandered off into one of the buildings.

Christy, not content to simply wait there by the truck, got back into the truck and sat in front of the rearview mirror once again. She ran her fingers through her hair, grimacing at the terrible tangles. It would take some time to make herself presentable again, but well… 

Why did this matter so much, anyway? She’d looked far worse than this during her time on the farm with her brothers. Maybe part of it was just because she’d gotten just a little bit used to the more glamorous side of life during her time in the city with Steve.

It was just nice to be pampered like a city girl for once, with the promises of travelling the world, getting anything she could want, and living it up in a cityfolk way rather than being tied down to a farm or being lost in the shuffle amongst her brothers or being outshone by her baby sister.

Her time in California, along with Steve himself, had apparently changed her in some way. All of these things had given her a taste of a different world that she liked, that she now craved for… she wanted to look nice, to be that city girl instead of a filthy tomboy. She wanted to feel like she was something more.

She gritted her teeth and took a comb out of her purse, leaning closer to the mirror as she tried to tackle the tangles. No, she would certainly  _ not _ turn back into that pitiful farmhand. She would transform herself back into the new person she had become no matter what. Not that she had anyone to impress out here, but… maybe it was herself that she really, really needed to make herself presentable for right now. 

Besides, she was all she had for the moment, right? 

_ A/N: I almost feel like I’m ruining Christy a little, because I caught her line from the actual episode, “I grew up in Houston, give me the city any day” but… I’ve already developed things so much in this way I’m gonna keep rolling with it as it is, lol. Anyway I’m posting this chapter now because I think it’s long enough, but I shall get into the stuff with that perverted dude with the rifle soon, muahahaha…. _

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

_ A/N: I want to go on record by saying that I hope the following content is not too… creepy, raunchy, etc. Maybe I got a little carried away. But I just got very, very creepy vibes sometimes when I saw Ray in the episode, so I don’t doubt he was THINKING certain things.... _

Christy was well into the process of wiping the excess sweat and runny makeup off of her nose, trying to ignore the stinging in her feet, when all of a sudden she sensed a presence. There was a slight tug on her hair and she felt fingers on her back.

She gasped and turned sharply to see an aged man standing outside, leaning against the passenger side door and peering inside, at her. The man was grinning at her with a very, very creepy expression on his face.

“Who the hell are you?!” she demanded, shrinking back as much as she could in limited space.

“Why I just wanted to say hello, my dear,” the man told her, his grin widening. “Looks to me like good ol’ Issac found some fresh meat, and,” he bobbed his eyebrows up and down, “I really like what I’m seeing this time!”

“You get away from me!” Christy thrust open the door on the driver side and slid out, wincing as her sore tootsies once again hit the sand outside. She tried to make a run for it, but there wasn’t far she could go in this condition and without shoes, plus the creep was on her like a hound after a rabbit.

He easily went around the truck and grabbed her by the arm. “Now, now, where do you think you’re going so fast, Missy?”

She kicked him in the shin and tried to twist out of his grasp. Unfortunately, he seemed to be anticipating a struggle and he adjusted his grip accordingly, plus she had to realize that kicking him with no shoes on her feet didn’t have the same impact it would have otherwise.

“You look here,” he growled, tightening his grip on both her arms, “you better start doing what I say or I can make life really ugly for you.”

“You best let me go!” Christy snapped, tensing up but trying to force herself to remain calm. If she gave into panic now, it would only make things worse. She had to remain level-headed and keep her eyes peeled for a way out. There was no telling what this man was going to do, and she could definitely smell the stench of liquor on his breath. 

She already knew from back home how mean people could get, especially creepy people when the booze began to bring out tendencies that were already buried beneath the surface. She’d even seen it first hand with one of her uncles… the one who was forbidden from coming back to the family farm ever again.

“David!” Christy called out in growing desperation when the creep’s restraining hold began to transform into something a bit more uncomfortable. “Issac! David!”

The man started laughing, as though he knew a joke or secret that she hadn’t been let in on yet. “Oh, they ain’t gonna be able to help you, sweetie-pie. You see,” he put an arm around her slender form and cupped her chin, forcing him to look up at him, “Issac is gonna take real good care of your friend. I’m here to take real good care of you.”

“What the hell is  _ that _ supposed to mean?!”

“It means you better start treating me with respect, for one.” He readjusted his grip as she tried to squirm her way out of his embrace.

“I don’t gotta treat you any way,” Christy grated through clenched teeth. This was the last thing she wanted to contend with, particularly after the fiasco involving Steve in LA and Vegas. She really, really did not need this crap. She was also growing more and more terrified, even though she tried not to show it. This ugly, creepy old guy was giving her the same looks that drunk perverts had given her at a bar she’d stopped at for dinner after parting company from Marietta and her husband in LA.

“You smell really good, you know that?” He was still getting way too touchy-feely, feeling her arms and back, as though examining a fresh specimen of meat. “You’re like a fresh flower smelling of perfume, mixed with dirt and sweat… you smell just right to get down and--”

“DAVID!” Christy screamed, just to have a firm, smelly hand clamped tightly over her mouth. 

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder with his other hand. “You just shut up, you hear? There ain’t nobody out here to hear ya. You better start learning to like my company.”

Just as he started to push her toward the ground, the big lumbering form of Issac approached as if out of nowhere. Apparently he had heard her scream. “What is going on out here?” he demanded. “Ray, what the hell are you doing?”

The old man let go of Christy and backed up a tad. She grunted on the ground, her ankle stinging from where it had been twisted slightly when she fell. 

Both of the men stood scowling at each other for a moment, clearly having a silent conversation of some sort pass between them. It would seem that these two were very familiar with each other. Not only that, but it was also clear that Issac’s entire demeanor had changed. Somehow he was no longer the overly bubbly, friendly and helpful soul who’d picked up Christy and David off the side of the road.

Now… she couldn’t quite peg what it was or what was going on. It appeared though that Ray was in cahoots with Issac somehow or other. For the moment, she kept her mouth shut and observed, making no move to get up. She massaged her ankle warily as she watched them.

“I was just sizing her up,” Ray shrugged. “We gotta see if she can handle the workload. She seems to have good muscles.”

“I got a feeling I know what you were thinking,” Issac growled, narrowing his eyes. “You best keep your hands to yourself and remember why we’re out here.”

“Oh, I ain’t forgotten,” Ray stated. “But I can only  _ bet _ you’d be thinking similar if this happened to be a pretty little black vixen.”

“Wouldn’t make no difference.”

“Whatever,” Ray shrugged.

“I told you to lay off the booze,” Issac snapped. “Where is your gun?”

“It’s back in the salon, I didn’t think I’d need it with this pretty little thing. She doesn’t even bite.”

“Get your gun, and get her down into the mine,” Issac ordered. “I’ll get David and bring him down.”

“Where is David?” Christy demanded, speaking for the first time since Issac had appeared.

“He’ll be right along,” Issac told her. “I gave him a bop on the head to make sure he’d come along quietly, I’ll go fetch him.” He glared at Ray. “You better behave. These people are here to help us in the mine, nothing else. Is that clear?”

“Yeah, crystal,” Ray rolled his eyes.

“Go get your gun, and meet me in the mines with her.”

Christy grunted as she found herself being grabbed by the arm and hauled to her feet, then unceremoniously half-dragged into the salon so that Ray, her escort and apparent guard, could fetch his rifle.

“You, come on,” Ray snapped. 

Christy flinched, but it took her only a second to realize that that hadn’t been directed at her. Ray was looking at someone else, someone seated at one of the tables. It was a filthy, scrawny young man with black hair, someone who had obviously not bathed for at least a couple of weeks.

The young man stood, as though waking up from a brief rest period at a small table he had been seated at. Judging from the plate and utensils, he had been eating a meal as well.

“Come on!” Ray snapped impatiently. “I ain’t got all day and Mr. Ross said to MOVE!”

The young man snapped to it as though struck from behind with a whip. He was on his feet and coming along with them like a big, broken-in puppy on an invisible leash as Ray maneuvered Christy toward the door and outside. 

“Where are you taking me?” she dared to ask as he took her back out of the saloon and began to walk her in a different direction. The young man said nothing, following almost zombie-like, keeping his head down and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You deaf? We is going to the mines.” Ray offered nothing else.

A quick glance over her shoulder soon revealed that Issac was coming, too. The big man had David’s unconscious form slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Somehow, Christy had a hunch that if Issac hadn’t been so close by, Ray would have continued trying to cop a feel or possibly do something worse to her.

One thing was clear. Issac was apparently the boss here, and it would seem that Ray was, perhaps, at least a bit intimidated by him. There also seemed to be a deeper reason for the mutual cooperation between the two men, otherwise they wouldn’t be here like this.

But she wouldn’t in a position to ask any questions, and she wasn’t sure how far she dared to go.

Within the next twenty minutes or so, she found herself and everyone else deep within a mine shaft. Issac had set David on the ground, who was no longer quite out cold but still in a daze. Ray stood nearby with his rifle in hand and, obviously playing the role of official guard, motioned Christy and the young man to stand side by side near David, as though they were lining up for something.

Issac murmured something about wanting to pass the time until David could have a chance to come to and picked up a guitar that had been left lying somewhere nearby. Christy narrowed her eyes at the big man as he began to strum a tune and sing a few lines from some melody. Well, apparently the dude did like to sing out loud. 

For the moment, she kept quiet like a good girl, waiting and watching. Somehow she had a feeling that he wouldn’t like it if she interrupted his serenade or whatever he was doing.

All eyes were on David as he groaned and began to move, with the exception of Issac who continued to play his tunes and sing softly. David was touching the back of his head, making it very obvious that the spot where he’d been hit stung like crazy. 

Christy glanced up from him to look over at Ray, who still loomed uncomfortably close. Upon making brief eye contact, Ray broke into another leery grin, which Christy met with a scowl. She then looked back down at David, who seemed to be trying to get some bearing.

At least David seemed alert, which meant he hadn’t been seriously hurt. He looked over at Issac as the big man finished his singing and guitar-playing.

Issac smiled and set aside the instrument, taking off his hat and hanging it up. He then came over to stand before his gathered entourage and address them. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to find your hose,” he said to Christy. “But I didn’t think we had it anyway,” he chuckled.

David groaned as he painfully pushed himself up into a seated position. 

“I’d also like to apologize for the bump on your head, David. But don’t worry, it won’t happen again cuz I’m gonna take good care of you.  _ Very _ good care of you, as it should be. Only the best for the slaves of Issac Whittier Ross.” The dark-skinned man’s eyes lit up with pride as he claimed apparently ownership of those in front of him.

David spared a glance in the direction of Christy and the young man, apparently noting who was who in the pecking order. Obviously the old man with the rifle was working with Issac, but the filthy young man had been here in this horrendous conditions for quite some time as a “slave”, or whatever the hell was going on.

“Are you able to stand, David?” Issac came closer and extended a hand.

After a moment of hesitation, David accepted the proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He didn’t trust anyone here, but knew better than to create waves… just as long as no one started shooting or hitting anyone again. Which no one seemed inclined to do, at least for the moment.

David winced sharply as Issac examined the spot on the back of his head where he’d struck him. “A minor wound, David,” Issac stated as he gently palpated the area.

“Uh-huh,” David grunted as he permitted himself a grunt and deeper grimace. He’d figured as much himself, though as far as he could tell there was no concussion or anything indicating a more serious issue. He doubted there was even any blood, considering his hair and scalp would’ve been a sticky warm mess otherwise.

“It’ll be sore for a while,” Issac went on thoughtfully as he lowered his hand, “but this man can work.” He moved away from his line of “slaves” as if that was all that needed to be said on that matter.

“Work? What are you talking about?” Christy demanded. “You just hit him on the head!”

“Shut. Up.” Ray snapped.

“You better do what he says,” the young man said.

“The hell I will! I’m getting out of here!” Christy stepped out of line and began to make a tentative move in the direction of the exit, just to be intercepted by Issac. 

“I don’t think so, lady. I don’t think anybody is getting out of here.” Issac gave her a light push, causing her to back up a bit.

“What do you want with us?” David asked, one hand still holding the sore spot on the back of his head. 

“You gotta call him Mr. Ross,” the young man warned.

Issac smiled affectionately at his property. “A name given to my family by a slave owner two hundred years ago,” he explained. “I like to keep it as a reminder.”

“That’s right,” the young man passively echoed like a good little yes-man. “You gotta call him Mr. Ross.”

Christy stared at the young man like he had grown a third nostril. “What is going on here?” she directed at Issac.

“Tell us, Mr. Ross,” David asserted, somehow managing to passively play the game and appease the Lord Master while offering subtle protest all in one swoop. At least he seemed to have recovered from the stinging to the point where he wasn’t wincing or touching his head anymore.

“Very simply, I need a workforce,” Issac explained. “The only problem is I don’t have the cash to pay for one.”

_ A/N: Ending this chapter here so it doesn’t become too much longer than the other chapters here. But I’m on a roll so I’ll probably post another one within the next couple hours or so, muahahha. _


	5. Chapter 5

Christy gave a small laugh, as if all of this was some great big practical joke. “Hey, we’re not slaves.” There was no way in hell she was going to do anything down here, certainly not after the day she’d had and definitely not in these conditions. What she deserved was a chance to get out of here, take a nice hot shower and get a good meal, then put her feet up for a while before going to bed.

There was nothing she wanted more than to wash away the events of the day. It just seemed like it was one nutty thing after another, ever since she’d left home. For a brief moment, she even found herself in the unique position to envy Marietta. No doubt that girl was, at the very least, stuffed on fine wine and caviar right now.

Besides, the only thing she had to do was bide her time until Steve found his car, right? There was no way in hell she was staying here forever.

“Hey, it’s an American tradition,” Issac said, dead serious. “Now according to my Grandfather’s map, we are sitting on what is probably the richest vein of gold in this state.” His eyes widened with greedy anticipation. “I intend to find it.” Deep dimples entrenched his cheeks as he looked around the mine, as though imagining himself surrounded by shiny metallic riches.

“Why us?” David asked. At Issac’s sharp look he inclined his head and added, “Mr. Ross.” David seemed like someone who’d been through enough crappy situations to know when to simply go with the flow a tad even when other people were being users or just utterly ridiculous in some fashion.

“Why not?” Issac was still dead serious. “You were unlucky enough to break down here, just like Marty and Harry here did before you. Right Marty?”

Marty had lowered his gaze.

“Harry?” David queried, obviously noting the absence of that particular member of the party.

“He was here before you, man,” Ray spoke up when no one else did. Neither Issac nor Marty seemed quite so inclined to speak much of it, whatever had happened. 

“So in return for your labor,” Issac stated, avoiding that topic altogether, “I will provide you with food and shelter. I will take care of you.”

Christy scoffed, her arms folded in front of her chest and staring at him like he was out of his mind. “I don’t need anybody taking care of me, thank you. Forget it! Nobody tells  _ me _ I’m a slave, this is  _ America! _ ”

“Exactly, dear lady,” Issac stated. 

David shot a quick glance at Christy, perhaps intended as a silent note of caution, but she wasn’t looking at him. 

“Put them to work,” Issac ordered Ray, having said all he was going to say and wanting to get things moving.

“Uh, Mr. Ross,” David spoke up. He waited until the large man turned to face him again, then asked simply, “How long?”

“Well, it won’t be two hundred years, David,” Issac answered reasonably. “Just until we’ve found the gold. Maybe a year, maybe less if we’re lucky.”

Those words hung between them in the air for a moment as the notion sunk in. A year of digging around in the mine, or at least a few months? It was a daunting prospect, one that neither David nor Christy liked the sound of much at all. 

“All right you heard him,” Ray stated gleefully as Issac retrieved his hat and took his leave. “Sweat time! You men get yourselves a couple of picks. Marty will show you where.”

Marty was already inching in the direction of the work area, hesitating only because the others weren’t moving. He visibly gulped.

David stood with his arms folded, assessing the situation and reluctant to do as he was told like some brainless mule. Christy stubbornly remained planted in place too, unsure what to do.

“Don’t you hear well?” Ray tightened his grip on his rifle, asserting the fact that he was the boss here, particularly in Issac’s absence. 

David looked at Ray, his eyes momentarily switching between the older man’s eyes and the weapon in his hands. Then, apparently deciding it was best to go along with this for his own health and well-being for now, quietly accompanied Marty and allowed the younger man to lead him to the designated work area.

“Honey, you can load,” Ray told the woman as she seemed inclined to simply stand there with her arms folded. “Just pick up the chunks of rock as they bring them out and put them in that cart.”

“Put ‘em in there yourself, shrimp,” Christy snapped. “I’m not in the mood.”

Ray closed in the distance between them and grabbed her by the chin, forcing him to look up at him. She flinched and tensed up, still remembering what had happened outside and what he might have been about to do. Thankfully though, it seemed he had sobered up at least moderately since then.

“Now you look here, Honey,” he told her, “we better come to an understanding right quick, or I could make it real ugly for you down here. You know what I’m saying?” He gave her a slight shake.

“The only thing ugly down here is  _ you _ .” Christy turned sharply, away from his grabby hand and stern stare, marching her way in the same direction that David and Marty had gone. She gave Ray one final, withering look, who simply grinned and reminded her who the boss was by indicating his rifle.

In a rueful motion, Christy began to pick up the chunks of rock and throw them unceremoniously into the cart.  _ Thunk. Thud. Thunk. _ If nothing else, it gave her a way to vent her frustration at the entire situation. It was easier when imagining that the cart she was throwing rocks into had Steve and Ray inside of it…

Well, at least some of the endurance she had built up during her life on the farm had been worth something. She would play along with this ridiculous situation until she had her first opportunity to get out.

David, meanwhile, had acquired a pickaxe and stood with Marty a little bit further in. He glanced at Christy as she began to work, taking note of her activity, then he looked to see how closely Ray was watching. Their guard was not currently in direct visual range and a brief glance around the cart indicated he was, for the moment, more preoccupied with watching Christy work. 

Evidently, Ray hadn’t seen a woman for quite a while and was enjoying the show. That and he was also enjoying a few sips from his water bottle… whether or not the contents were truly water was up for speculation.

David extended his free hand to Marty. “David Becker,” he introduced himself.

Marty spared a quick glance in the direction of their overseer, as though meekly making sure there wouldn’t be any problem with this or that such a simple gesture wouldn’t bring forth a heavy-handed objection. Marty then wiped his hand on his britches and took David’s for a brief yet firm shake. “Marty Gibbs.”

With the intro out of the way, Marty turned almost robotically toward the work area to begin.

“Uh, hang on a sec,” David gently and quietly intervened, reclaiming the man’s attention. “I wanna ask you something.”

“Gotta work!” Marty said with alarm, a tad distressed at the thought of delay. “Roy won’t like it!”

“No, no, wait, please,” David quietly insisted, looking the younger man in the eye. “I just want to ask you something.”

“Gotta work!” Marty shot back. “We put in our time, Mr. Ross is gonna let us go.”

“Now don’t bet on that,” David warned thoughtfully. “Who are these people?”

“I don’t ask questions,” Marty said nervously. “Mr. Ross don’t like it.”

“Well I don’t like it either,” David’s voice asserted a slight edge now as he maintained a gentle touch on the man’s arm, preventing him from going to work quite yet. Marty’s eyes widened slightly with fear on behalf of their overlords, but perhaps a slight, momentary respect for David.

David sighed, then lowered his voice as he went on. “Look, when I was sitting next to that shaft, the one that’s boarded up, I could feel a breeze coming through it. Is that any possible means of escape?”

Marty averted his gaze. “Harry tried. Forget it.” He bent down to reclaim the pickaxe he’d dropped, getting ready to work. 

David gently maintained a grip on the man’s shoulder, unwilling to drop the conversation and submit to working quite yet. “But what happened to him?”

Marty hung his head. Whatever had happened, it seemed to cause a lump to form in the young man’s throat.

“What happened to Harry?” David persisted softly, his expression full of concern and curiosity. He really needed to know what happened, especially now. The gentle caring in his tone caused Marty to finally break down and tell him.

“Harry was my brother.” Marty’s voice shook with emotion. “He was five years older than me. We had a truck, an eighteen wheeler. It broke down, just like you. Harry was always trying to figure a way for us to get out of here. That passageway you was talking about?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it wasn’t boarded up before. Harry he… he tried to crawl through it. He fell down a vent and… and d-died.” Marty’s voice cracked, as though he were on the verge of tears.

David touched his shoulder, this time in a comforting way. Marty had obviously been through hell and the caring part of David wished he could take this man out of here right now, possibly get him checked out for malnutrition and get some other help for the tragedy and abuse he’d been suffering here. There was nothing else David could do for the moment, except offer a moment of sincere comfort and sympathy.

Marty seemed to break down a little further under David’s compassionate eyes. “Aw, look man,” Marty’s voice was cracked raw with emotion now. “We’re all gonna be dead before we find any gold.” 

That cold, hard reality hung between them for several seconds as David kept a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. Even Christy had stopped working for the moment, perhaps having heard at least some of their conversation despite their soft tones. She was glancing in their direction and rubbing her hands, obviously having developed some soreness.

It wasn’t long before Ray took notice of the lack of activity. He cocked his rifle and stepped closer, glaring at them. “What’s this? Why ain’t ya’ll working?” He frowned when he noted the look on Marty’s face, particularly the tear that had escaped from the corner of one eye and rolled down one, filthy cheek. “What’s he blubbering about?”

David shot the insensitive overseer a brief look that could’ve melted butter. Marty betrayed a brief sniffle and seemed to force himself to regain some composure. “Gotta work,” the younger man intoned, his voice a brittle monotone now.

Christy grumbled something about a scrape on her hand, which was ignored by the uncaring Ray.

“Look, Mr. Ross is gonna be back soon and he is not gonna be pleased if he sees you people slacking off like this.” Ray scowled, pointing his gun in their general direction. “Get. To. Work.”

Marty immediately slipped back into full work mode. David shot a glance at Ray, then at Christy as she ruefully resumed her own task of chucking rocks into the cart, then he himself hefted the pickaxe to begin working.

It was grueling work that went on for several hours. The physical labor was as redundant as it was tedious. Whack, whack, whack as the pickaxes chipped and broke pieces of stone away from the solid rock wall in front of them, allowing chunks of varying sizes to fall to the ground. The men would periodically toss them out of the way, behind them, whenever the rubble built up to the point where it was in their way.

Christy, in turn, would pick up whatever they tossed out and put it in the cart. After a few hours, it had reached the point where the cart was full, almost to the point of overflowing, with the chunks of rock.

No one had noticed when Issac Ross had returned, but it appeared he had been there for some time before he finally addressed his “slaves”. “Alright,” he spoke up, “that’s enough for today. Let’s get this cart outta here, dump it out, and I’ll see to it that you three get a good meal.”

They didn’t need to be told twice to stop. The three of them were dehydrated with achy muscles and sore, raw hands. David and Marty were required to move the cart and dump its contents, then Issac said they would bring it back in the morning when they returned.

Before they knew it, they were all back at the abandoned saloon, where Mr. Ross disappeared for a little with a promise to get some grub. Ray sat down at one of the tables, his rifle still in hand to keep the slaves in line. 

Christy plunked herself down at one table as far away from everyone as she could get while Marty had already deposited himself in the first chair he could reach. David scrutinized the younger man as best he could from a distance, noting the effects of long-term exhaustion and physical labor. It also seemed that Marty had apparently succumbed to his fate, having been here in a hopeless situation made worse by his brother’s death during a hopeful escape attempt.

There wasn’t anything that David could do except leave him alone to rest, and hope that Issac Ross would indeed give them food and something to drink to help with their dehydration.

David opted to sit down at the table where Christy sat, sitting directly across from her. He took a moment to examine her with a careful eye, noting that she appeared okay apart from the expected exhaustion and borderline fatigue. He still didn’t know much about her, but it was clear that this had been a trying day for her even before any of this bullcrap started.

“How are you holding up?” he asked her quietly.

“Fine.” Her clothes were all but ruined and she was covered in sweat and smudged with dirt. “All this is just crazy. They really think we’re gonna find gold down there?”

“Apparently.”

“I still don’t believe this.”

David sighed. He spared a glance in the direction of Ray, who seemed to be keeping a general, watchful eye around the room, though he didn’t seem inclined to move or do much of anything. David couldn’t help but wonder what the sleeping arrangements were going to be like. Surely both Ray and Mr. Ross were gonna have to sleep sometime…

Within the next thirty minutes, Issac appeared with a steaming pot of something that made David’s stomach growl a little. After everything he had been through, nearly any kind of food was acceptable to his palate as long as it was edible and meant rejuvenating his strength. Food, especially cooked food, was a luxury that someone frequently on the move was almost a luxurious commodity to him sometimes.

Mr. Ross sang in a rather cheerful yet tired way as he put plates and utensils in front of each person, then spooned enough food onto each plate to fill it. “Eat up, now,” he told everyone once he was finished. “I’ll be back in a little while.” Without another word, he left.

Marty, who was still seated at the table closest to the door where he’d originally plunked himself, gobbled his up unceremoniously and oblivious to anyone and anything around him. He finished his food in what seemed like seconds, to the point where David momentarily wondered if the man was going to choke or send it back up again. 

Once Marty was finished eating, however, he shoved the plate aside and put his head down on the table once again, snatching some much-needed rest now that he could get it. He really looked like he needed it.

David ate much more slowly and much more dignified, maintaining a sense of manners as one would when eating out at a public restaurant. Christy didn’t touch her food at all, maintaining a stubborn disposition as she seemed to stare at nothing.

“You better eat something,” David told her as he proceeded with his own meal.

“I wouldn’t feed this stuff to a dog,” Christy stated ruefully. 

“Well, you’re not helping yourself any. If you really want to get out of here, you have to keep up your strength.”

“I don’t plan on staying here long enough to starve.”

David eyed her with sort of an “Oh, yeah?” look but said nothing as he continued to eat.

Christy decided to let him in on the secret. “You remember I told you that wasn’t my car?” She leaned a little closer as he nodded. “Well, it belongs to this guy in LA, a real big shot in the record business. If I told you who he was you’d just  _ die. _ Well see, I met him when I was looking for a job and one thing just kinda led to another, till I find myself in Vegas about to get married. Everything seemed to be going real fine until the other night when the phone at the hotel rang and uh, it was his wife calling.”

David’s eyes widened. “Ah,” he acknowledged with feeling.

“Mmm-hmm. So I took his wheels and split. And I got a funny feeling he’s gonna want them back,” Christy said smugly.

“Yeah…”

“One way or another we’re gonna get out of here,” Christy assured him with utmost confidence. “That Mr. Ross is gonna be in a lot of trouble, just as soon as Steve finds his car.” Even though he was the last person on the planet Christy wanted to see, even now, she relished the idea of that big-shot jerk using some of his pull and influence to put these jerks away… especially if maybe, just maybe, she could pin the blame for the damaged car on Ross.

“Oh, I already took care of that hours ago,” Issac stated from behind. Neither of them had noticed him enter. “Now is there any other way I can dissuade you of the notion that I am  _ dumb _ ?”

Nobody said anything. Christy’s face fell as her plans completely unraveled before her. Did that truly mean Steve wouldn’t be coming? There would be no way for anyone to find them now, if the vehicle had truly been moved.

David eyed her thoughtfully for a moment, thinking about all of the spare parts he had seen just before he’d been knocked unconscious. Just how many other cars had been through here, just to break down? Had Issac personally dismantled every single one so that they wouldn’t be found? It made David wonder what in the world Issac had done with a great big, eighteen-wheeler truck…

Issac lifted a brown paper bag he’d been carrying and deposited the contents onto their table. “These may not fit you exactly as your own, but I assure you that you’re gonna find them function.” A couple pairs of outfits now lay in a pile on the end of the table.

“Somebody’s gonna find us,” Christy stated angrily. “You can’t just hide a whole town.”

“No, no, but I can hide  _ you _ in the mine,” Issac replied. “Out of sight, out of sound. And me? I’m just poor ol’ Issac,” he crooned, mimicking the persona he’d had when he originally picked them up off the road… a time which felt like an eternity ago now. “I’m just tetched in the head, eh?” He laughed.

Issac glanced down at the plate in front of Christy. “How come you ain’t touched your food? Go ahead, eat. I used to be a pretty fair cook.”

“That’s right,” Ray said from the nearby table, “Two hundred men, three times a day, eleven years.”

Some of Issac’s jovial mood seemed to evaporate. He shot Ray a look, but otherwise ignored the comments as he turned his attention back to Christy. “You better get used to it, dear lady.”

David watched warily as Christy pushed her plate off the table in a gesture of stubborn rebellion. He glanced between their enforcers with alarm as Ray suddenly stood with rifle in hand, but Issac held up a hand to stop the older man in his tracks. “She’ll learn,” Issac stated confidently. “They all will.”

Ray only grinned in that annoying, leering way he had.

David shot another worried glance in Issac’s direction, but the large man simply left without another word. Ray sat down once again in the same chair he’d been seated in before, still grinning in their direction while fondling his rifle.

David sat back, casting a warning look at Christy, then resumed a more thoughtful pose. Suddenly he didn’t feel particularly hungry himself. 

There was no telling when any of this would end, but the near-future appeared to be rather bleak. No doubt they would be in for more of the same tomorrow, and the following day after that. In David’s experience, well… even though it didn’t seem believable on the surface, he had been in many, many worse situations than this. At least here, for the moment, he was getting free meals cooked for him and… well, if there was a bright spot to found in this ridiculous situation, at least he was remote enough so that he and his… condition wouldn’t attract any attention.

Yet for once, being remote was proving to be a problem. There was no telling how much longer Marty would be able to hold up in these conditions, and Christy wasn’t used to such continuous, grueling activity at least of this sort. She’d held up fairly well, making it seem she was accustomed to at least some manual labor, but…

He would just need to keep an eye out for the first opportunity to escape… if one presented itself at some point. But these people were dangerous and Issac had already proven he was no fool.

They were in for a rough time of it.


	6. Chapter 6

The next two days were nothing but seemingly endless, grueling physical labor. They would get up once the sky was high in the sky, chow down a quick breakfast of whatever Mr. Ross put together from his pantry of reserves, then head down to the mines.

After an endless day involving David and Marty chopping at the endless rock with pickaxes and Christy picking it up and tossing it into the cart, they would once again return to the surface for a meal and rest. Issac and Ray always watched them while they worked, doing absolutely nothing themselves except getting an apparent pleasure out of watching the “slaves” work. 

For Issac, it seemed that he just liked the feeling of power, that these were _his_ slaves and he was getting them to do what he wanted. For Ray, he just seemed to enjoy leering at Christy. 

At night, Issac and Ray took turns keeping an eye on their charges, as they each had a rifle. Overall, no escape attempts were made because the trio of “slaves” were far too exhausted by the end of the day to do more than sleep.

Besides, it would seem that Marty had surrendered his fate long before David and Christy had ever appeared on the scene. Part of him had apparently died when Harry died, and he didn’t have any hope of being rejuvenated… yet. 

Christy had refused to eat breakfast on the first day, but she finally succumbed and ate a little at dinner. Apparently the hunger pangs had gotten to be a bit much for her, and she had gotten the idea that there would be no rescue, no magical escape attempt… at least not in the near-future.

David had kept his eyes peeled, but had yet to formulate a plan. The long, grueling work hours had already taken something of a toll on him, wearing him down and making him tired and sluggish. He could understand why Marty was so apathetic in a way; being held captive and forced to work like this was enough to break the spirit as well, particularly for someone who’d been here for weeks.

David refused to allow himself to get down to that point. Though it was easier for him, considering he hadn’t been there that long yet overall… and he’d already been through worse scrapes than this and came out alive. Sometimes, he wasn’t even sure how he managed to keep going or keep his spirits up, but he’d always managed to.

Part of him had developed a theory long ago that whenever he changed into the Hulk, it somehow had a healing effect on his mind while Banner slept and the creature took control for a while. Maybe it was one of the biggest reasons he’d stayed sane and with some endurance to keep going, when many other people would have broken down completely or shattered by this point.

It would seem that the demon he possessed within him was, in some areas, as much his ally as it was his frequent menace. His condition kept him mentally and emotionally balanced, perhaps giving way to brief periods of madness while his primary mind and well-being remained level-headed and sane. Studies did show that one of the reasons why people dreamed while they slept was to give the mind a chance to sort through mental clutter, process everything and chuck it out. Without dreams, insanity might set in.

It was possible that changing into the Hulk from time to time was like a state of sleep-walking, allowing primitive emotions to run rampant with little or no restraint.

It was just unfortunate that many times in the past, there had also been times when he’d gone to sleep normally and awoken from a nightmare just to change into the Hulk. Perhaps there was some loose correlation between sleeping and being the creature after all… or perhaps not. There would never be any way to tell without being able to study the creature extensively with full lab equipment, and that was just out of the question.

Dr. Banner was “dead” and no longer had access to any of his former resources. It had also been proven time and again that the creature was uncontrollable, unable to be contained, and unsafe to study even if he _did_ have access to his former assets or could speak to his associates and colleagues in the scientific world.

….He also began to wonder if these over-analytical thoughts were a sign that he had been in the mines too long already. Dwelling on all of this right now was not going to help, he needed to see if he could help Christy, Marty and himself. 

On the second day, however, it still proved that they were no closer to finding a method of escape. Ray and Issac continued to enjoy watching them as they worked hard.

By this point, Christy outwardly looked almost as broken in as Marty. Her face was filthy, her hair was a complete mess and she had finally traded the fancier clothes she’d been wearing for the baggy outfit Mr. Ross had provided her with the other day. David spared a glance at her periodically, a little concerned about how all of this was taking a toll her on, but she seemed to be keeping up the pace that kept their bosses happy. There wasn’t much he could do at the moment.

David was very good at focusing on the task at hand, no matter what the work was. That practice and discipline had been born out of a necessity for survival. Taking any kind of job that came his way, enduring crabby bosses, some of whom didn’t care anything about their employees… in a way, this was no different than some of the other situations he’d been in.

Except for one key difference. He didn’t have the luxury of being able to quit and leave any time for any reason. He had not only been drafted in a sense, but captured and held against his will. This was not a situation where he could explain upfront that he would potentially need to leave at any time for personal reasons, nor could he count on a paycheck anytime soon. It was just endless work with nothing more than the promise of a daily meal and rest before continuing with more work.

However, that did change today, on the second day.

One of the chunks of rock that Christy hefted and tossed into the cart gleamed in what little light the mine provided. At first, no-one noticed, but there was just enough of it to catch the eye of Mr. Ross.

Issac snatched Ray’s drinking flask from the older man’s hands and pushed his way past David and Marty, spilling some of the fluid contents onto an area of rock to wash away some of the dirt. Everyone looked on as it was confirmed that the spot glistened and gleamed with that sought-after, shiny metal.

“Gold! We found the vein!” Issac shouted, and it wasn’t long before both he and Ray were laughing in delight while their “slaves” looked on gravely, not uttering a single sound.

Issac and Ray were excited and acting like this was the event of the century to celebrate. They had finally gotten what they wanted. 

But what did that mean for David, Christy and Marty? Had they served their usefulness to their overlords? Now that the gold had been found, what would become of them? Unlike their delighted “masters” who were coming very, very close to dancing around like children at Christmas, the outlook for the trio looked rather grim.

Issac proclaimed that it would be a special day off for everyone, that he was taking everyone to the surface to make them all something really, really special.

On the way out, during a moment when neither Ray nor Issac were paying attention, David whispered a warning to Christy and Marty. “I don’t think we should eat anything they serve us.”

“Why not?” Marty whispered back. 

“Now that they have the gold, I don’t trust them not to put something extra in it.”

“You mean like poison?” Christy asked.

“Maybe.”


	7. Chapter 7

True to his word about cooking up “something special” back at the saloon, Issac Ross vanished into the kitchen area singing all the way while Ray had the trio of “slaves” sit down at one of the tables.

The contrast between the two, remote-constructed social classes was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ray was louder and even more obnoxious than usual, drinking a great deal more booze than usual while Issac cooked… which, if anything, made Ray even more obnoxious. David, Marty and Christy sat in stone silence at the table where they’d been told to sit, as though waiting to hear their final verdict once the celebratory atmosphere died down.

Issac seemed to be fueled not only by the success of finding gold, but the sight of having his “slaves” sitting there upon his order. He still had them and they still had to do what he said, and he still had Ray in his pocket to do his bidding as well. Everything was going very well in his mind and everything would continue to go exactly as he wanted. 

He would continue to use white people as slaves, and he would get rich off of their efforts. Then he would make a name for himself with his newfound wealth, and he would be able to cherish the irony. A black man, building himself up and earning something with the blood, sweat and tears of white people. 

If only his grandfather could see him now…

Ray, on the other hand, seemed to be drooling at the idea of getting the gold out as soon as possible, just to get his share. And… he was still eyeing Christy in a very, very uncomfortable way.

Marty heard his stomach growling, but he continued to follow David’s advice even when Issac finally brought in the freshly cooked grub. None of the trio of “slaves” touched the food, even when the steaming plates were set in front of them, just in case. They didn’t exactly have much of an appetite at the moment anyway, considering they still didn’t know the outcome of their fate.

“Come on, eat up!” Issac’s voice boomed over them jovially. “What’s the matter with y’all?”

“Maybe this will lighten up the mood!” Ray walked over to the piano in the far corner, setting it on automatic. A rather annoying tune began to fill the air, serenading his and Issac’s celebratory mood. Ray took another deep glug from his flask, then began to move his arms in a slight rhythm as he continued to grin like a maniac.

“What’s the matter with you people?” Ray asked as he neared the table where the trio sat. “I’ve seen happier folks at funerals, and they’d be the dead ones!”

“I gotcha something, Christy,” Issac said just then, stepping forward to deposit a few things on the table next to her. It was a simple comb, hairbrush and a small mirror. “I thought ya might like to fix yourself up a little.”

Christy glanced down at the objects blankly for a moment. A dozen thoughts swam through her mind. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had run a brush through her hair or even looked at herself.

Issac crooned in her ear and picked up the mirror, though she barely heard anything he was saying. What she saw when she looked at her reflection was a stranger, someone with deep fatigue who’d had some of the life drained out of her.

Had it really only been two or three days since the fiasco with Steve? Since being captured and held against her will out here? Her face was filthy, her hair so darkened with dirt and dust that it almost appeared a different color, and her entire body practically clung to the clothes she wore despite them being loose and baggy.

One simple thought of Marietta was enough to motivate Christy just enough to pick up the comb and try to at least smooth out some of the tangles, while Mr. Ross continued to hold the mirror up on front of her. It quickly proved to be useless, however, as the bristles got caught badly in a set of tangles and refused to budge.

She felt David’s concerned eyes on her as she gave up, looking forlornly at her reflection one final time before dropping her gaze. All the while, Issac was still standing over her and crooning almost as one would to a delicate pet. 

Then, apparently no longer getting whatever he wanted or expected out of the interaction, Issac sort of shrugged and announced to Ray that he was going back to the mine for a while. No doubt to survey the area and perhaps assess his future riches a bit more.

Once the big man had gone, it was Ray’s turn to come over to Christy. “Aw, ain’t that sweet,” he crooned. “Here, why don’t you let me help you pretty yourself up a little?”

Christy gasped a little as Ray tried to force the comb through her tangles, turning her face away. The only thing that Ray achieved was removing the comb entirely with a small, matted tangle attached to its bristles. Christy groaned softly and turned her face away, touching the slightly sore spot on her scalp.

“Come on now, you’re looking at a rich man baby!” Ray cupped her cheeks and turned her head back to face him, willfully oblivious of her disgusted grimace. No doubt he was also breathing on her with his rancid, liquor-scented breath. “Don’t I look a bit better to ya now?” He put his forehead against hers and nuzzled her like a cat.

“Ray.” David’s eyes were stern, his tone quiet but held a note of warning.

“You hush up,” Ray told him. He straightened, though he kept a hand on Christy’s shoulder in an almost possessive way.

“Mr. Ross wouldn’t like this,” Marty pointed out.

“Oh whatever Issac doesn’t know won’t hurt him!” Ray cackled.

David folded his arms. “What happens to us now?” he asked. It was an important fact to know, especially now, plus part of him hoped it would keep their “overseer’s” mind on the matters at hand.

“Who cares?” Ray laughed. 

That certainly did not bode well for the rest of them.

Ray continued to leer at Christy and he even began to dance a little jig in place. “Come on baby, let’s dance!” He grabbed her and pulled her up out of the chair. Due to her exhaustion and possibly malnutrition, she didn’t have the strength to resist apart from a grimace.

A chair leg could be heard scraping the floor as David shot to his feet. “Roy, let her go.”

“Now you hush up over there!” Ray said, as he held Christy against him and forced her to dance… even if all he was really doing was treating her like a rag doll. “Dance with me, baby, DANCE!”

Marty joined David’s suit by standing up beside him. “Mr. Ross won’t like this! I’m gonna tell him!”

Ray didn’t stop what he was doing, though his expression did darken in their direction. He didn’t like being told that he couldn’t do what he wanted by the men who were supposed to be his underlings. He spent enough time getting bossed around by Issac, he didn’t need any guff from them, too.

“Sit down and shut up.”

“Roy.” David took a step toward him to intervene.

Ray responded quickly, pretty much tossing Christy aside to land on the floor near his feet as he snatched up his rifle. David froze, casting a quick glance in the direction of the fallen woman before focusing his full attention on the madman in front of him.

“You guys are troublemakers,” Ray snapped as he cocked his rifle. “You want to act like tough guys, eh? Well then come on! Let’s just see how tough you can be!”

He motioned them toward a nearby stage. “Come on, get up there. Let’s see what you’ve got! Go on, get up there!”

David and Marty exchanged glances and did what they were told, neither of them liking the sound of this. They got up on the stage, knowing it wasn’t wise to disobey someone waving a rifle around… especially a drunk person who didn’t have all of his marbles.

“Now FIGHT!” Ray roared as the two men took their positions on the stage.

“Ray, take it easy,” David tried to mediate the situation. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I ain’t gonna fight, Mr. Ross wouldn’t like this!” Marty said. 

“Mr. Ross wouldn’t like this,” Ray imitated, mockingly. “That’s all you ever got to say, any time you don’t like something. Mr. Ross is  _ your _ massa, not mine! Remember that! Well,  _ the hell with Ross! _ And the hell with Harry! You remember Harry, right? He would’ve fought David! He might’ve even fought Ross!”

“No!” Marty sounded pained.

“Harry would have thrown a punch! Harry was a tough guy, unlike a sissy little boot-licking  _ geek like you! Are you SURE he was your brother?! _ ”

“NO, NO, NOOOOO!” Marty’s eyes went wide as he screamed, putting his hands on his face.

“YEEEESSS!” Ray began to dance in place again. “HARRY WAS A REAL MAN!” 

David reached for Marty’s shoulders as the younger man buried his face into his hands. “Marty--”

“YOU SHOW ME YOU CAN BE A TOUGH GUY LIKE HARRY!” Ray shouted.

“Marty,  _ don’t, _ ” David began, just to find a solid fist connecting with his own chin.

Ray continued to bounce around, leaving it a mystery how he managed to avoid hitting the trigger accidentally, chanting Harry’s name and egging the broken man on.

Marty, in turn, found that he was far stronger than even he’d suspected, probably due to the intense workouts he’d been forced to endure for weeks. He simply cut loose now, no doubt releasing a lot of things he’d been keeping pent up inside in a way that he hadn’t been able to before.

For the time being, even if it was at David’s expense, he had at least  _ some _ power. He had the ability to lash out, to show Harry in his mind’s eye that he wasn’t just some pathetic weakling, to show that he was still something despite all of this… even if it was just proving he was alive and able to do something.

David held back, pleading the younger man to stop, to no avail. David was knocked against the other side of the stage and punched again, and again… but he held back, for he was the only person present who knew he was now trying to hold back against not one, but two. Marty had no way of knowing he was instigating the release of something far worse buried inside of David.

Christy, who had been on the floor this entire time, saw her chance to move. Ray had his back to her, having his full attention on the stage show, so she decided to try and go for his gun. She quietly pushed herself to her feet, gritting her teeth as she did so.

Marty finally gave David one final, solid punch that sent him crashing through the floor boards of the stage. Right at that moment, Christy made a mad grab for the gun.

“HEY!” Ray snapped, “Get off me!”

Marty, reacting very much like someone with stockholm syndrome, immediately jumped off the stage and pushed Christy away from Ray and the gun, holding her back. It was a weird gesture, like he was trying to keep her from ticking off their overseer too much while, perhaps, trying to protect her from his wrath as well.

Ray eyed them very carefully as he kept his rifle pointed at them. He began to tentatively move up the steps on the stage, not quite trusting them not to pull something while he checked on David.

“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRR!!!!”

Ray ended up tripping over his own feet as he fell backward, the floor breaking his fall as he landed sprawled on his back, the rifle having flown from his grasp.

Marty and Christy could only stare in horrified shock as  _ something _ , the source of the thunderous roar, rose from beneath the floorboards. It was as though David’s crash through the stage had opened up the floor just to reveal some kind of horrible, terrifying monster that had been dormant underneath until now.

“Let’s get out of here!” Marty began to run, clutching Christy’s arm as he did so. Ray was in no condition to do anything at the moment and it looked like the big green creature might eat him up or possibly break him in two.


	8. Chapter 8

Marty and Christy wasted no time vacating the saloon, like bats out of hell. 

Meanwhile, Ray continued to lay on the floor, staring up at the giant green creature with widened eyes. His hand began to rove around for the rifle he had dropped, groping for it blindly. 

Just as he felt it and began to try and get a better grip on it to retrieve it, the giant creature--who was already very peeved--turned toward a source of irritation that seemed to be egging it on further. The piano, which was still playing that endless tune.

The creature got a good grip on the piano and pushed it across the stage to crash into a table very close to Ray.

Ray rolled to one side to avoid the collision and managed to retrieve his rifle, then he repositioned himself to take aim. He fired at the creature’s head, but his hands were shaky; the shot hit a light above its head.

The creature balked and held up its arms to shield itself from falling debris, then it seemed to get the message and backed up a bit, apparently not wanting to be injured itself. Ray cocked the rifle and prepared for another shot as the creature burst through a window. Solid glass was reduced to shards as wood became chunks and splinters.

Ray fired again, but his shaky hands missed a second time. By the time he was ready for a third round, the creature was out of sight.

Christy and Marty ran in the opposite direction, making their way around the saloon and sprinting out into the open… where, unfortunately, they were caught by Mr. Ross, who came armed with his own rifle as if in response to whatever commotion he’d heard. It was highly unusual for Ray to actually start firing, after all.

“That’s far enough,” Issac told them. “No underground railroad here for the likes of you.”

Ray appeared just then, looking around wildly and holding his rifle at the ready. He slung it over his shoulder as he neared Issac, looking every which way for the green creature.

“Looks like the overseer needs an overseer,” Issac stated, his tone dripping with disapproval. 

“Did you see it?” Ray asked. “T-that green thing?”

“Now be quiet,” Issac said. “I will not tolerate such drunkenness around here, you understand me?” he scolded. “Now you take the slaves back to the mine!”

“This green thing, it destroyed the whole saloon!” Ray insisted. “It ripped everything apart!”

“Take them back to the mine,” Issac repeated sternly. “And where is David, huh?”

“Must’ve gotten away…” Ray looked around again. 

Issac looked like he wanted to slap Ray silly, possibly with the end of his own rifle. “I’ll find him,” Issac spat as he began to march off. “You just take care of them!”

Ray watched him go, taking a moment to spit on the ground as though trying to get a bad taste out of his own mouth. He then turned to face his charges, motioning them to get moving with his rifle.

For the first few paces, none of them said a word as Christy and Marty walked onward with their heads down and Ray marched behind them.

Finally, Ray spoke. “Why the hell didn’t either of you say something? You saw it too.”

In spite of himself and the situation, Marty grinned. “The only thing I saw was you running out of there like a bat out of hell.” Oh, it felt good to slip in a taunt like that. Just as it had felt good to dish out punches and show he could give them out. It had also felt good to be able to start to run, at least.

They might have even gotten away if Issac hadn’t showed up when he did. No doubt it was the shots being fired that alerted the big man to something going on. 

Ray gave Marty a shove with his rifle, hitting a sore spot where a piece of rock had hit him the day before. Both of the “slaves” got the message, though, they went along quietly without any further backtalk and soon re-entered the mine, out of sight.

Once they were deep within the mines, Ray instructed them to stand near the boarded up shaft, keeping several paces between them while he kept half an eye on them and waited for Issac with the other.

“What do you think that was?” Christy whispered to Marty.

“You mean that thing?” Marty gave a small shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Why’d you have to hit David anyway? He’s on our side.”

“Cuz I had to.”

Christy gave him a light slap on the shoulder. Ray, who was still half-drunk and seemed more intent on keeping an eye out for Ross, was barely paying attention… so long as neither of them moved much. “You didn’t prove anything back there. David might be hurt or worse now because of you.”

Marty opened his mouth, then closed it. “Harry…” His voice cracked. Somehow, he managed to say a lot. His eyes made up for saying anything that hadn’t been said yet.

“Yes, I know. Harry.” Christy sighed and folded her arms. “You can’t help Harry now. And I don’t think he would’ve wanted you to fight like that.”

“I just had to.” 

“Why?”

“I’ve been nothing for a long time here.” Marty hung his head. “I had to show I’m still something.”

Christy sighed. “What about that big green thing? The way it roared…” She gave a little shudder. If nothing else, the adrenaline rush it had given all of them had put some life back into their blood. “Do you think it hurt David?”

“I don’t know.”

She sighed. There seemed to be nothing else to do or say for the moment. All they could do was wait for Mr. Ross to show up again. 

0o0o0o0o0o0

It wasn’t long before Issac found David, just sitting on a small rock pile in the dirt. “Come on, David, let’s go,” the big man instructed.

David appeared a bit odd, his shirt ripped and torn, perhaps a bit disoriented and sunstrucken. He paid attention to the sight of the rifle though, and began to move. 

They stopped by the saloon briefly to get David a change of clothes and, while he changed, Issac kept his rifle handy but also took a few moments to examine the area.

“What in the hell happened here?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” David admitted truthfully as he pulled on a shirt and began to put on his shoes, tying them up with a sloppy bowtie. He never did remember much of what happened whenever he changed into the Hulk.

“I heard shots fired, and Ray usually doesn’t shoot off more than his mouth unless he’s got good reason.” Issac glared at David. “What happened here? How did this happen to the stage? Who pushed the piano?”

David straightened, slowly and easily as not to appear threatening in any way. He was done getting dressed. “Ray was drunk. He told Marty and I to get up on the stage and fight each other.”

“What brought this on?”

“He forced Christy to dance with him.”

Issac made a small note of disgust. “I kept telling that dirty old man to keep his hands to himself,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than David. “Alright, why were shots fired? Did you and Marty attack Ray?”

“I don’t remember much of what happened,” David answered honestly. “I fell through the stage floor when Marty hit me. After that, I don’t know.”

Issac searched David’s features, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to determine if there was something more going on than what David revealed. 

David met his gaze evenly, never looking away, never flinching.

Finally, Issac nodded as though satisfied. “I don’t know anything about Ray’s ‘green creature’ or whatever, but it sounds to me like Ray got out of line. I bet there was a tussle in here, and the three of you took off. We’ll deal with  _ that _ in the mines, come along now.”

David glumly accompanied the larger man as he once again returned to the mines.

It wasn’t long before he had rejoined Marty and Christy down there, who were still under the guard of Ray. Both of his fellow “slaves” seemed relieved that he was alright, and Marty offered something of a meek apology in David’s direction in response to being elbowed by Christy.

David seemed nonplussed either way, though one could see a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. He gave everyone a once-over as though trying to make sure everyone was alright themselves, then all attention returned to the matters at hand.

Ray had taken out a long chain in response to Issac’s bidding and began to fasten it around the ankles of each “slave”.

All the while, Issac began to launch into a speech. “Now I don’t understand any of this,” he lectured. “Why would you three try to get away? I take care of you, I feed you.”

“This is nothing but a game to you, Mr. Ross,” David spoke up. 

Issac bristled. “What are you talking about? This isn’t a game!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, please forgive me, you’re not a slave-owner, and Ray here isn’t an overseer.” 

“I ain’t nobody’s overseer,” came Ray’s verbal confirmation. The end of the chain clinked in his hands as he finished securing it around Marty’s ankle.

“Yeah, you already proved that,” Issac stated, his tone dripping with disapproval. 

“Look here,” Issac met David’s eyes directly again, as though David had become the focal point which Issac needed to challenge to justify himself and his actions, “I was born into a society that gave me the illusion of freedom. But I’m still black, and I’m still in chains just as sure as my grandfather was. Isn’t that right, Marty?”

However, now, even Token Boy hesitated before speaking. “Yeah, right,” Marty finally concurred quietly, with a bit of an edge... At least for him.

“You didn’t say ‘Mr. Ross’,” Ray stated, as he began to fasten the end of the chain around a wooden beam to finish tethering their “slaves” in place. “Back in prison, we used to call him ‘boy’.”

“You’re pushing your luck, Darnell,” Issac growled. “You’re really pushing it.” He then left without a word.

Ray gave the chains one final tug to make sure it was solid, then he grinned at them. “That should hold ya.” With that, he took his rifle and headed out of the mine chamber, leaving them to sleep in their leashes for the night. It was time for him to go have a chat with Issac Ross.

David waited until Ray was out of sight, then he turned to the younger man. “Marty, hand me that pick over there.” He would have gotten it himself, but Marty was closer and they couldn’t afford to make much noise.

“What are you doing?” Christy asked as David took the pick from Marty and began to heft it.

“Getting out of here,” David answered, attempting to pry one of the planks free from the boarded up wall behind them.

“So am I,” Christy agreed.

“Harry would have tried, too,” Marty said. It seemed that what happened back at the saloon had helped him gain a little more self-confidence and some spirit. They had almost escaped once, and they had delivered a blow to their captors. Maybe they could do so again.


End file.
